Evaluating the Assets
by Starsurfer108
Summary: In this version, the head prosecutor Annie Farrell hasn't seen Vincent's face, and Max didn't have a gun. Story starts from the escape from the building at the end of the film. A slightly more compassionate Vincent, even though his motives are ambiguous. The second half was meant to be a fun and silly epilogue, but it morphed into a serious continuation, so I kept it as one chap.
"Go there!" Max hisses. "Run! I'll make it so that he thinks you're with me."

A silent but grateful look on Annie's face said it all, and she took off sprinting.

Max took off running in the other direction, pausing near a pillar. Vincent rushed into the station, and immediately saw him. Max waved his arms as if he were ushering someone out of view.

Not fooled, Vincent scanned the area, and located Annie. Yet, to Max's surprise, Vincent took after him.

"Oh shit," he muttered as he changed tactics and boarded a train. To his dismay, Vincent leaped so far that he would put a professional ballet dancer to shame, and climbed on the back of the train.

When they came to the first station, Max knew that Vincent was outside, aiming a gun at him.

He wasn't smart enough, didn't have enough training, didn't _believe_ in himself enough to think of a way out if he stayed on the train.

May as well face the music.

He stepped off onto the platform, not making any sudden movements. He was surprised that Vincent didn't immediately fire, knowing how efficient he was.

Of course, the train left without any deviation from its existing schedule. If there was anyone else on the train, they pretended to not notice.

The deafening roar of the train diminished quickly and suddenly, his sense of safety also decreasing, forcing him to face finality.

Vincent strode closer, still aiming the gun at Max's head. "So this is what happens to the good guys. You're not making a good case, here. I'm sure even Annie would agree."

Max knew that Vincent could see through any act of his, so he didn't even try to talk his way out of it. But there was something niggling. "Why'd you go after me, anyway?"

Vincent chuckled. "I don't work for free. The club was under surveillance, and I doubt he'd be in any position to pay me. So that means I work for myself. And you're the only one who can identify me." He had a chilling grin, much like the time when he introduced himself in the cab.

"Which was your plan all along - to kill me," Max retorted, challenging him. There was no way he'd be manipulated into feeling like he'd stuffed up, and Vincent was out for revenge.

"Sure," Vincent replied mildly. "But you think after all we've been through, I wouldn't just let you go?"

Max stared at him, eyes narrowing. Vincent was taunting him, calling to his soft side to try and find some humanity within him worth saving.

Instinctively, Max sprinted for the side of the station and leapt over the railing, into air.

He landed with an 'oof' on the roof of a building that was thankfully there, rolling and desperately trying to sprint over the side again, out of view.

With a cry, he fell, clutching his knee as the sound of the gunshot reverberated in the neighbourhood. He slid to a stop a few centimetres from the edge. So close, and yet so far.

He heard a thud as Vincent leapt down.

Rolling to face him, Max levelled his gaze. "Just shoot me and get it over with," he said through gritted teeth. He meant every word he said - he was going to die with some dignity, dammit.

"Now why would I kill you after I just saved your life?" Vincent said, amused. There was something in his manner which still seemed predatory.

Max's eyes squinted, then he rolled over slightly, peering over the edge to a ten storey drop to the street. It would have been an instant death, for sure.

Still unconvinced that Vincent would spare him, he turned to face him again, a frown on his forehead. He'd bet his last dollar that Vincent simply wanted to savour the kill, as opposed to an impersonal ten-storey drop.

"See, getting to know someone before I kill them really _is_ bad for what I do," Vincent said, putting his gun back behind his waist. He then bent down, his face very close to Max's.

"Prove to me that letting people live is the right thing," he whispered. There were so many unspoken threats evident in his words.

Vincent then turned around and made his way back to a ladder leading to the platform. He paused. "Then again, if people really are as apathetic as I've made them out to be, I _have_ just killed you."

He then disappeared out of sight.

Max sighed, still in shock that he was allowed to live. For once, he genuinely doubted whether Vincent actually did something good, even though he couldn't fully commit to that conclusion.

Eventually, someone noticed his yells AND rang 911 for help.

-0-

It had been a few months since the incident. Feeling hungry, he decided to get a good ol' American burger. Pulling over, he walked into the nearest McDonalds.

The customer ahead of line was irate, spewing insults to the poor cashier. Max found himself going on a mental vacation, to his island in the sun. Only, at the moment, that island was occupied by Vincent.

Had Vincent turned over a new leaf and shown some kindness? If so, he really was better off for meeting Max. But could Max say the same thing about himself? He'd been taught to show some spine during that fateful night, but did he really continue to display that courage these days?

His attention came back to the present as the customer's voice raised in volume, continuing to complain about frivolous things and demanding a free meal. The cashier was humbly apologising, but did refuse to give a complimentary meal.

' _Good for you, man – you stand up for yourself_ ,' Max thought, wondering if he should intervene.

Delaying for a second longer, his decision was made for him as the irate customer stepped away and stormed out, hurling one final insult. Max decided he'd be extra polite to the cashier to make up for the dregs of humanity. Putting on a smile and raising his eyes to make contact, he froze.

Before him was familiar short-cut grey hair, and cold, calculating blue eyes – all with a McDonald's uniform.

Despite his fear, Max started to laugh. Vincent looked livid.

He tried to collect himself. "Shit, man, I'm sorry – it's just, I know what you want to do to these people."

"Really." Vincent sounded deadpan.

"Hey, man, I'm sorry," Max said soberly, trying to make up for his previous rude slip.

"You killed my career. What do you expect? Got to make a living somehow," Vincent said sarcastically.

Max remained still, trying to ascertain the extent to which he was telling the truth.

Vincent leaned forward, eyes intense. "It's just an interim thing," he said in a low voice, all but echoing Max's previous words about building towards _Island Limos_.

Max still looked wary.

"So did you get the girl?"

"No. I couldn't do it just in case I was playing into some plan of yours."

"You fucking idiot."

Now Max tried very hard to suss Vincent's intentions, considering Annie's safety was now a factor. Knowing he was out of his depth regarding psychological warfare, all he could do was stare at him.

Vincent broke the silence. "Anyway, you're affecting my efficiency."

"Oh… right. A big mac, please."

"And would you like fries with that?"

"Yeah. A shitload."

-0-

Max sat at his humble breakfast table, staring at his bowl of cornflakes as they crackled into sogginess – yet another reminder that there was a time limit on all the good things in life.

For some reason, he didn't call the police about the sighting. Perhaps it was because of his own safety, but perhaps it was also because he wanted to give Vincent a chance at turning over a new leaf.

Then he read in the paper about a murder at McDonalds.

 _Fuck._

He jolted as there was a loud banging at the door.

Opening it, he saw the police.

"Hello, Sir – the district attorney, Annie Farrell, has disappeared. We want to know if you have any information about her whereabouts."

"Er.. n-no… Sir."

"Well, if anything comes up, give us a call." The policeman gave him a business card, then walked away.

 _Fuck._

The phone rang. Max looked at it almost fearfully.

"Ma? Is that you?" he sarcastically spat.

"Very funny," said Vincent. "Meet me at the south-west airplane hangar at the abandoned airport in an hour."

"And why would I do that?"

"If you ever wanted to know what I do in my free time, you'll come."

Max remained frozen, hearing the dial tone. He knew too well to go against his wishes.

-0-

Walking in, he saw Annie tied to a chair and gagged. She looked terrified.

"What's this, Vincent? Dating advice?" Max's words might have been interpreted as jovial, but his eyes were dead serious.

"May as well be," came the reply with a smirk. "The early bird gets the worm, and she gets up nice and early."

Something inside Max snapped. So far, Vincent had been acting professionally, but what he was insinuating was anything but.

He strode towards Vincent, not flinching at all at his quick-draw, his signature pistol aimed straight at his head.

He stopped one centimetre from touching Vincent's pointed gun.

Vincent gave a sniff. "OK, no funny business. You made me lose out on my paycheck before, so I'd like some compensation."

"I doubt that I could afford it," Max said. "And if you're talking about taking my limo deposit, let me tell you that you can shove a limo up your ass."

"I know you can't afford it, Max," Vincent said, blinking quickly. "But _she_ can." He smiled. "Letting people live really is the right thing."

"You know the United States doesn't bow to extortion. You really think that she'd cough up some of her personal money for a stranger?"

"Maybe. Now that she knows you'd willingly put yourself in danger for her. The second time, too."

"Now, look here," Max said with a steel gaze. "I've had enough of you playing around with me and anyone else in my life."

Vincent's eyes showed slight surprise, but still had the cold and calculating look, knowing that Max was no real threat to him.

Without wasting a beat, Max bent down and undid Annie's bonds, removing her gag.

"Come on," he said, putting an arm around her and helping her towards the exit.

Normally, he'd be surprised that he made it out without being shot, but he was too angry to do so.

-0-

Max pulled over to the side, going on a mental vacation. Fortunately, it was much easier to do in his newly-rented limousine.

He'd basically collapsed from shock a day later from what he pulled off. But it made him so much more grateful to be alive.

The next day he'd asked Annie out for a date, and registered his limo business.

The sound of the back door of the limo opening snapped him out of his reverie on an express to LA.

"Sir, we'd normally require a booking, but as it happens I'm free at the moment."

"I'm glad to hear it. I'd heard that your company is so fantastic that your clients never want to get out at their destination. I want to see if that's true – what you've learned."

Max froze at the familiar voice. "Yeah, well, one thing that I learned from you – this!" He grabbed a shotgun that was under his front seat and aimed it at Vincent.

"You really _do_ know how to make someone feel at home." Vincent stretched his legs out, put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. "But surely you aren't going to lose your dream over little ol' me? How are you going to explain all the blood? Vigilantism is still illegal."

"I'll just say that someone got their period."

Vincent chuckled. "Get me to LAX."

 _Fuck._

Well, it was one way of getting rid of him. And more legal.

Putting the shotgun under the front seat, he pulled away.

"I gotta hand it to you, Max - you definitely look like you're from the hood a bit more. And you learned it all from little ol' _me_."

Max's eyes narrowed at the prod – a white man teaching a black man to be from the hood? Even though he knew it was making him into a more-rounded person, he was still pissed.

"Hey – I can see you've changed, yourself. And you still make mistakes - _that's_ why you don't get to know your armed attacker. Harder for them to get scared, you know."

"I'm not sure if you should consider the fact that I've let you live a mistake. Being a perfectionist, I _really_ don't like to make mistakes."

"And I'm not sure if I should call you a softie or not."

"A _softie_?" Vincent opened his eyes and leaned forward. " _Really_ not hearing the gratitude," he added almost flippantly.

"Hey, I don't know you, man. But I do know that any kind of gratitude is bullshit. You take what you want from people, and you always will."

"Yes, I do," Vincent said, proudly, matter-of-factly.

There was a silence.

"How about some music?" Max murmured, flipping the switch.

Both of them physically jolted as Taylor Swift blared loudly from the speakers. Despite everything they'd gone through, Max never saw a more deadly glare from Vincent.

"Sorry!" he said, flicking it to some soft jazz. "Passengers before were teens, and they like this shit."

Vincent sat back, relaxing again. "And did they want to leave?"

"Let's just say that's another reason I carry around a shotgun."

Vincent chuckled.

The rest of the ride was spent in comfortable silence.

Max pulled in an area where there wasn't much security.

Vincent straightened his jacket. "Here you go," he said, offering six crisp hundred-dollar bills.

"Nah, man – on the house," Max said, waving it away.

Now outside, Vincent leaned through the window. "Thanks – I owe you one." He turned and quickly strode into the airport.

"No, you fucking don't!" Max yelled after him.

Vincent briefly raised a hand in a wave as he walked away.

Max just shook his head as he looked at Vincent's diminishing form. Then it struck him - the way he was carrying his briefcase reminded him of a heavy case full of cash.

 _Fuck._

 _-0-_

 _-0-_

A/N.

(OK, if it's not clear, the implied ending is that Annie paid Vincent the amount he would have received, thus buying safety from Vincent for the both of them. But just because there was a clear financial motive doesn't mean that Vincent couldn't have another reason. And it would be smarter on his part to kill any witnesses, rather than bribe them. Thus, he was showing some almost brotherly affection. In my mind, anyway.)

I fully believe that in the movie, Vincent intended to kill Max the entire time. Why? He didn't want to show his face to get the hits again, but he'd showed his face to Max. He'd told Max that he should give the girl a call, even though (I think) by then he knew that she was one of his target, therefore she'd be dead. That's cold. But these characters are so fantastic – I wanted to play around with them in an AU where that wouldn't be the case.

You know it's a good film if you've read the Wikipedia synopsis AND you're still entranced when watching the film.


End file.
